Take Out The Trash Day
by turbomagnus
Summary: A collection of shorts, drabbles and snippets for West Wing that can feature various characters and situations. Pairings usually include Josh/Donna and Sam/Ainsley.
1. Aisle Seven

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 16 January.

An additional note; I've noticed that there's an increased number of omitted words and homonyms used in my '365 Project' works. I apologise for those. Normally they're caught and fixed over weeks and sometimes months of reading and re-reading my stories as I work on them, but as the '365 Project' is more of a speed and creativity drill, I don't always proofread the stories before I post them. I'll try to fix that in the future.

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

What Ainsley does in this story IS illegal, DO NOT do this yourself or you will likely face charges of theft or shoplifting.

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><p>"Aisle Seven"<br>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

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><p>It might not be Heaven, but C.J. Cregg was in a happy place; her happy place was the cookies and snack crackers aisle at a D.C. grocery store. Everyone had their little foibles or addictions, the President loved trivia facts; Josh liked his hamburgers burnt, while Donna made it one of her missions in life to get him to eat healthier; and Toby wasn't shy about his support of PBS. C.J.'s was a simple one; she loved Goldfish, she could literally eat them every day, she kept a supply in her office to snack on while watching the different news stations.<p>

And she had reached the Goldfish Promised Land. The store was one she had never visited before, but would definitely make a point of visiting again; they had all the different flavors, regular, white chedder, extra cheesy, they even had the Rainbow Goldfish. It made C.J. feel almost giddy just looking at the rows of packets on the shelves and mentally calculating how many plastic bags full of the little white bags of fish-shaped crackers she could easily carry. For a moment, she actually even considered calling Danny and using the fact that he was always trying to get her to go to lunch or dinner with him to get him to help carry more Goldfish, even. She had quickly shot that idea down, Danny didn't need any more encouragement. While C.J. was standing there trying to decide where to begin buying Goldfish, what flavor she wanted most at the moment, she felt more than saw or heard someone approach where she stood.

"Hi, C.J.," Ainsley Hayes remarked distracted as she walked past the Press Secretary, as though she hadn't actually realised that the other woman was there, and picked up a bag of cookies from further down the shelves, "Mm, Mint Chocolate."

Then she opened the bag so that she could take one out and nibble on it.

"Mm!" Ainsley closed her eyes in pleasure at the taste, "Minty."

"Ainsley! Ainsley! Ains-" Sam Seabourne groaned as he rounded the corner and came to a stop, "Not again... Ainsley, you know you're not supposed to do that! It's illegal, it's stealing."

Ainsley pointed at the Deputy Communications Director with the nibbled-on cookie in her hand, "I'm going to pay for them, Sam."

"Yes, but you haven't yet," he countered, "Which makes eating them stealing."

"What does it matter if I pay for them then eat or eat them then pay as long as I pay for them, Sam?"

"According to the legal system, it matters a great deal," Sam answered, beginning to get flustered.

"You know, Sam, you keep getting worked up like this, you'll give yourself a heart attack." Ainsley bit the cookie in her hand in half and finished chewing and swallowing as she turned back to the shelves, "I think I saw some dark chocolate-macadamia nut cookies up here. Dark chocolate's supposed to be good for your heart, Sam."

"Ainsley..." Sam now half-walked, half-stormed up behind her and snatched the open bag of cookies out of her hand, "Stop it."

Ainsley turned back around to face him, only inches seperating them, "Why don't you make me, Sam?"

To emphasis the challenge, the blonde Southerner popped the rest of the cookie in her hand into her mouth and began to blatently and almost rudely chew it. Silently cursing the pixish looks that made her so adorable even when she was doing things like this, Sam reached the conclusion that she couldn't eat any more cookies if her mouth was otherwise occupied.

So, he kissed her. He cupped the back of her head with his free hand and pressed his lips to her own soft, pink ones and gently prodded them with his tongue until they parted to grant him entry. As his tongue moved in Ainsley's mouth, Sam had to admit that the cookie did give her a nice minty flavor. After a few moments, they seperated and Ainsley had to put her hands on his chest to keep her balance.

"Take me home, Sam," Ainsley ordered breathlessly.

"Ahem," both Sam and Ainsley turned to see C.J. standing there, arms folded and tapping her foot, looking for all the world like a disapproving mother, "Something the two of you want to tell me before I hear it from the Press Corps?"


	2. File It Under 'L'

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 6 February.

A riddle, dear readers... What begins with one word, ends with two and has three words in between?

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"File It Under 'L'"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

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><p>Sitting down at the table across from him, she asked an opening question; "How do you feel?"<p>

"Somewhere between burnt out and defiant, I don't know..." He sighed, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."

"You're not giving up, are you?"

"No, no way..." he somehow managed to put his forehead in both hands and shake his head at the same time, "I just wish I had kept my temper a little better, maybe set things up first instead of doing this on the spur of the moment like I did. Damn, that was stupid of me."

"Honestly, I think some of your most brilliant moments have been on the spur of the moment like that," she countered, "We should be able to make this one of them/"

"And how do you suggest we do that? I hate to admit it, but I'm the latest game in town; taking shots at me is looking like the new sport in Washington. It's so popular, it's bipartisan," he snorted as he retorted in a rambling way that if she hadn't known better would have made her think he was drunk.

"You're forgetting something; even if some people don't like you, plenty of others still respect you because they know where you stand and they know you won't back down," She reached over and took one of his wrists, pulling the hand away from his face, "Not everyone can say that. We both know that Leo can't."

He looked at her through the space where his hand and arm had been, not paying attention to the fact that she still had his wrist in her hand, "That doesn't change the fact that I ran and we both know that's what everyone's going to say."

"Not everybody," she corrected, reaching into her bag with her free hand and laying a plain white envelope on the table between them, "This arrived at the office today, you might want to take a look."

She released the hand she still had by the wrist as he moved its partner, opening the envelope and removing the single sheet of paper from inside. his eyes widening as he read it.

"Are they serious?" He asked when he reached the end of the letter.

"Appearently," she answered.

"Are they serious?" he repeated, causing her to roll her eyes.

"The meeting's tonight at seven, why don't you just ask them yourself?"

"Are you serious?" he asked this time, "I can't meet with them just like that - do you have any idea how badly I'll probably put my foot in my mouth and end up starting an argument without you there to keep me under control? You have to come with me."

"I can't," she shook her head, "I still work at the White House, you know CJ's got enough to deal with because of that tampered report, she doesn't need to get questions about me being involved in a meeting like this."

He stood up and paced a moment in thought, then stopped and looked at her, "Marry me."

She stared at him for a moment, "What?"

"Marry me," he repeated, "That way if anyone asks, it has nothing to do with the White House, you'd just be there with your fiancee."

"You can't just ask me like that," she answered quickly, rushing through the words.

"Why not?" he asked, "We can meet with them tonight and go ring shopping tomorrow, if anyone asks you can just blame me and tell them it's the best way for you to make sure I don't get into trouble without you."

"You're not supposed to ask someone to marry you on the spur of the moment like that, there should be wine and candlelight and roses, it should be romantic!"

"You just said I was at my most brilliant on the spur of the moment, are you taking it back now? Besides, those other things, the wine and candlelight and roses, soft music, I'm sure they're great for other people, but they're not us," he countered, "A romantic proposal for us would probably involve working late going over files and surprising you with a ring hidden in a folder filed under 'R' for ring or maybe 'E' for engagement..."

"'D'," she corrected absently, "Since it would probably be a _diamond_ ring, after all."

"See what I mean? I can't do this without you..." He paused, "Well, I can, I guess, but we both know I probably shouldn't. Imagine what I might get into without you there, think of the effects on the country... do it for the American people."

She burst out laughing, "Seriously? 'Do it for the American people'? CJ's right, you are an 'idiot-boy' and you can't say anything about my saying it because you're not my boss anymore, so you can't even threaten to fire me."

He pouted, "I couldn't fire you before anyway, you were impervious."

"What am I going to do with you?" she sighed.

"Marry me," he repeated again.

She thought for a moment, "On one condition. From this moment forward, you do not, for any reason, expect me to bring you coffee and never again ask me to."

"Deal."

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

Author's Note: Figured out my riddle yet? I'll give you a hint. What was her answer to the proposal, what will she say at the wedding, and what three words will be said in between?


	3. Scandalous Secret

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 9 February.

The title of the story is a nod to baileywhit's excellent Josh/Donna story "Operation Idiots" where it's the name of a contingency plan developed to deal with a relationship between Josh and Donna existing in the form of a clandestine romance. If you're a Josh/Donna fan and haven't read "Operation Idiots", go, do it now, go, do it, go now, now...

Yeah, that thing Toby and Josh did to Sam about 'tempting the wrath from high atop the thing' doesn't work so well with one person. It just ends up sounding stupid...

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

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><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Scandalous Secret"  
>By; J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

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><p>"Your alarm?"<p>

"Set for seven."

"And a taxi?"

"Called for nine."

"Plane takes off?"

"At eleven," he shrugged on his jacket, "I got this."

"You've got to be there on time, Josh," Donna reminded him.

"Donna," Josh repeated, "I got this."

It was probably the greatest masterpiece of subterfuge and low cunning that Josh had ever worked to ramrod, and surprisingly it had nothing to do with anything going through Congress at the moment. He'd told Leo he was going to Florida to see his mother and told his mother he was going to see a friend. He didn't want anyone to know he was slipping out of Washington for the first weekend that could be called a 'vacation' that he would be taking since the Bartlett campaign had won the White House.

The next day at fifteen minutes to eleven, Josh settled himself down in his seat on the plane and sighed in relief; no last minute international crisises, no sudden vote swings, no riders or amendments to bills that were already supposed to be finished, nothing could stop him now. It was a good feeling. Leaning his head back, Josh closed his eyes and relaxed.

Minutes passed before a voice disturbed Josh's reverie, "Hey."

Opening his eyes, Josh looked into the most wonderfully blue set of eyes he had ever seen, and he grinned, "Hey."

"You're on time, Joshua," Donna teased as she picked up his bookbag from her seat and dropped it onto his feet, "What happened? Did you finally get a new watch?"

"Donnatella Moss," Josh retorted as she sat down in the seat she had just cleared, "Does your boss know where you are?"

"I don't know, Josh," Donna shot back, "My boyfriend was supposed to tell him, but I think he was too distracted by the thought of me in a bikini."

"Very funny, Donna."

"Why thank you, Joshua," Donna grinned back, "If you're nice, I might even let you see it first-hand."

Josh looked at her in hurt surprise, "When am I ever not nice?"

"That depends, most of the time boss-Josh isn't nice and I have to placate Senators and Representatives alike with offerings of fruit and muffins," Donna reminded him, "But boyfriend-Josh can be very nice, he just doesn't like people to see because it might hurt boss-Josh's reputation."

"Well, boyfriend-Josh wants to remind girlfriend-Donna that in a few hours this plane will be landing in Hawaii and for the next four days, no one on Earth is going to see a trace of boss-Josh," Josh smirked, "I'll even forgo sniping at Republicans for the duration of our vacation, just for you."

"Remember that bikini, Josh?"

"Yeah?"

Donna leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Play extra nice and we'll see about finding some secluded beach where I won't need it."


	4. Snow Angels

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 11 February.

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Snow Angels"  
>By; J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

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><p>Josh smiled and leaned against the column with his arms folded, he was trying his best not to laugh at one simple fact; Ainsley and Zoey could get Sam and Charlie to do anything they wanted them to, even play in the snow that currently covered Washington. The snowman that the President's bodyman and the First Daughter were building was nice, the sight was very cute, but it was seeing his best friend and the Associate White House Counsel engaged in a snowball fight was what had the Deputy Chief of Staff ready to laugh. It was a 'fight' only in the loosest sense of the word, a 'slaughter' or a 'landslide' might be a better term considering the lopsided nature of the fight. It was almost embarrassing, because one would think that by now Sam would have figured out that he never won when he went up against Ainsley, not in debates, disagreements or, it seemed, winter games. Maybe it had something to do with being a card-carrying, Second Amendment-preaching Republican, because every time Sam made the mistake of looking at her, Ainsley managed to catch him right in the face with a snowball.<p>

'Sam, Sam, Sam,' Josh thought, not sure whether it was just his friend's trusting nature or the fact that despite his denials the Deputy Communications Director had a 'thing' for the South Carolina native, but he would have expected him to stop looking up to get a snowball to the face every time she called his name.

"Oh, Sam!"

'Like now,' Josh winced as Sam looked out from behind the tree and was on the recieving end of another winter projectile, causing him to drop his own snowball, 'Please don't let this get out, the Republicans would never let us live this down.'

Glancing over at the other pair, even with his status as 'Honorary Big Brother-figure', somehow Josh was sure that he didn't want to know what conversation was happening between them that involved Charlie pointing at Zoey with the carrot meant to be the snowman's nose and her responding by biting the end off of it. So engrossed was he in his observations that Josh didn't realise that Ainsley wasn't the only blonde out and about until he found himself on the ground and face-first in the snow, having been the reciepient of a sudden shove forward. As he lay on his stomach spitting out snow, Josh heard laughter from above and behind him.

"I'm not sure you realise this, but you're supposed to lay on your back to make snow angels, Joshua," Donna teased.

"Donnatella..." Josh retorted as he wiped snow from his face, "Have I tried to fire you today?"

Donna held up a hand and grinned, "Impervious."

Scooping up some snow, Josh climbed to his feet, "Let's see how impervious you are to a little snow down your back, Miss Moss..."

"Josh," Donna began to back up as Josh approached her, "Josh, don't you dare!"

"Donna," Josh countered with a grin, "You pushed me."

"That's because you looked like you needed to cool off for a little while," Donna shot back defensively.

"Well, then, so do you," Josh reached forward with the hand full of snow, causing Donna to turn and run away, leaving him to follow after her.

As Josh chased Donna, Leo shook his head, "Kids..."

Taking in the scene of the six younger people playing in the snow, Bartlet chuckled, "I don't know, Leo, I'm tempted to go join them. If Abby were here, we probably would."


	5. Sorely Tested

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 15 July.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Sorely Tested"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>When he entered their shared apartment, he didn't even greet his girlfriend laying on the couch with a book before he began ranting.<p>

"Call me a prude if you want - which I'm not and you know it - but when a pregnancy test is cheaper than a Diet Coke, something is fundamentally wrong."

She looked up and raised an eyebrow, "Any particular reason you were looking at pregnancy tests - since I know for a fact that I'm _not_?"

"That's the other thing," He fumed, "In an aisle for medical supplies and stuff like that is one thing, but who the hell puts pregnancy tests at the check-out like candy and sodas?"

"Someone who likes the idea of people being able to buy a Diet Coke, a bag of chips, maybe some dip and slip in a pregnancy test on the way out so nobody pays as much attention to it?" she asked rhetorically.

"What," he replied, "Like someone who thinks to themselves, 'Hm... she wants pickles and ice cream... That might mean something - I better pick up a pregnancy test on the way out, just to be sure'?"

She rolled her eyes, "You thought about this the entire way home, didn't you, Josh?"

"I can't help it, Donna," He admitted as he walked around the couch and set down next to her, raising her feet before placing them in his lap, "I see things like that and... I can't help thinking, what if it was some kid who saw that? What if it was _our_ kid? How can anyone be expected to explain something like this to their six-year-old kid riding in a grocery cart, who's just been introduced to spelling tests and math tests, when they ask 'Mommy, what's a pregnancy test'?"

"It will be alright, Josh. We'll make it alright," Donna promised him, then the blond arced an eyebrow and added, "'_Our_ kid', Joshua?"


	6. A Housing Situation

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 20 July.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"A Housing Situation"

By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>In any city in the United States, four friends - two couples, in fact - walking down the sidewalk would hardly rate anything more than a frustrated glare from other pedestrians for taking up too much of the sidewalk. Even in the nation's capital, the only thought most people would give them would be to assume that the two blonde women are obviously related, probably sisters. After all, not as many people recognised West Wing staffers when they weren't working as would probably claim.<p>

"It really looks different from this side, doesn't it, Sam?" one of the blondes asked the man walking next to her.

"You're right, you're absolutely right," Sam agreed with her as he looked through the fence and across the lawn at the building they were walking past.

"It's really a shame that we're always so worried about getting inside and going to work that we never actually stop and take the time to look at it anymore," she continued, "We've been taking it for granted, come to think about it. We work in one of the most special - and historical - places in the country and we forget that."

"Careful, Sam," the other man teased, "It sounds like Ainsley's trying for your job."

"Actually, Josh," Ainsley replied, "I'd be more likely to just try for Toby's job since it's the senior position as White House Communications Director, while Sam is just the Deputy Communications Director. No offense, Sam."

"None taken," Sam quickly answered.

"You all realise that it's not actually 'The White House', don't you?" the other blonde woman spoke up.

Josh stopped and looked at her, "Are you okay, Donna? Of course it's the White House. It's right there. It's big, and white, and we work there nearly every day, remember?"

Donna rolled her eyes, "I remember, Joshua - after all, I'm not the one who relies on me to keep track of their schedule, especially since their watch is slow and they refuse to replace it."

"I think that was a dig at me," Josh remarked.

"What I mean is," Donna continued, "the proper name for the home and office of the President in Washington is actually 'The Executive Mansion'. The name 'White House' is simply a common form of address that's come into standard usage and overwhelmed the actual name."

"Because it's white?" Sam interjected.

"Do you know why it's white, Sam?" Donna quizzed him.

"Uh... not really," he admitted.

"I do," Ainsley announced, "It happened when we were rebuilding Washington after the British burned it during the War of 1812."

"That's right," Donna agreed, "Dolly Madison was the First Lady and she had the Executive Mansion whitewashed with lime and water to cover the scorch marks on the original grey-brown stone."

Josh looked at both of the women, "There's something freakish about you both, you know that?"

"In our defence," Ainsley started.

"We do know that," Donna finished.

"You know something else?" Sam added, "Even if you are freakish, you're our kind of freakish."


	7. A Fistful of Donnas

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 31 July.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"A Fistful of Donnas"

By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

"It was a big showdown; oh, yeah, we stood our ground; shot out the lights; we got a little crazy." - 'Wild West Show', Big & Rich.

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>Except for the lack of tumbleweeds and dusty street, it had all the makings of a wild west showdown, complete with people clearing out a space around the face-off.<p>

Doctor Abigail Bartlett, First Lady of the United States, shook her head in disbelief, "Donna, I can't believe you're supporting Josh's choice on this - it's demeaning, it's insult; frankly, it's downright sexist."

Donnatella Moss, officially 'Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff', stood her ground and counterattacked, "Actually, ma'am, Josh had nothing to do with that selection besides signing his name to it."

That wasn't the answer that Abby was expecting, "What?"

"Some people have their own ideas of what 'Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff' means," Donna informed her, "To be clear, it means my job is to make it possible for Josh to do his job, that includes filing, arranging meetings, and sometimes even selecting candidates for his approval. Josh saw the assignment to make that selection exactly three times; when he got it at Senior Staff, when he handed it to me and when I handed it back for him to give Leo. I'm not sure he knew what it even was."

"Are you saying..."

"I'm saying he trusts me," Donna cut her off, "And I do everything I can to deserve that trust. Something I would expect you to understand, ma'am, since you've been married for over forty years, but it seems I was wrong."

"Is there a problem, Ladies?" the voice of the President of the United States boomed.

"No, sir, Mister President," Donna answered calmly, "I was just explaining to the First Lady the West Wing's process for selecting candidates to fill vacant appointment positions."

"That reminds me, Donna," President Jed Bartlett commented, "I wanted to congratulate you, I'm really impressed by the nominee you found."

"Wait a minute, Jed," Abby interrupted, not as the First Lady, but as Jed Bartlett's wife, "You knew about this?"

Jed looked at her in confusion, "You actually thought _Josh_ was the one sitting and going through dozens of candidates looking for the right nominee? Abby, have you met him? I thank God every day that Leo brought him to the campaign, but the man has _no_ patience. By the way, Donna, would you please go and keep an eye on him? He and Sam went into a room by themselves and I'd really they rather not try to burn the place down again."

Donna nodded and sighed, "It's like having a little kid, only without the adorable baby outfits... Come on, Ainsley, I'm going to need someone to help..."

The Associate Counsel had been one of those watching the Moss/Bartlett confrontation and hadn't been ready for Donna to suddenly reach out and grab her wrist on the way to the door.

"Wait, why do you need me for this?" Ainsley asked her fellow blonde.

"Because I need someone to keep Sam from escaping while I strangle Joshua," Donna answered matter-of-factly as she pulled Ainsley around her and pushed the South Carolina-native out the door.

"By the way, Doctor Bartlett," Donna paused to add over her shoulder, "Despite what the press says, you're not 'the most powerful woman in the world'..."

As the younger woman walked out of the room, the President turned a questioning look on his wife. But Abby didn't answer, she was too busy thinking of the two words that Donna hadn't said, but that she had heard anyway...

_"I am."_


	8. The Games They Play

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 8 August.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"The Games They Play"

By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>Almost as soon as she had entered her office, White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg stepped back out and raised her voice, "Carol!"<p>

Her assistant looked up, "Yes, C.J.?"

"What have I said about letting Danny in my office?" C.J. quizzed, "Especially since he's not even supposed to be in this part of the West Wing?"

"For us not to let him in your office, C.J.," Carol answered.

"Then _why_ is Danny in my office?"

"...Because... he asked?" came the answer as though it were obvious.

C.J. narrowed her eyes, "And somehow his asking takes precedence over my saying not to?"

"Well, Josh said it was okay..." Carol replied.

C.J. growled to herself, "If it isn't one idiot, it's another... _Danny_! Get your sorry butt out here so I can kick it before I go hunting down Josh to give him the same thing!"

The reporter stuck his head out the door of C.J.'s office, "You know, C.J., it's worth considering that I might actually have wanted to talk to you in private and there was really no reason for causing a scene."

"Read my lips, Danny," C.J. slowly shook her head with each words, "I... Don't... Care..."

"I'm hurt," Danny said, stepping out into full view and holding out a wrapped box, "I guess that means that you want me to take this back, huh, C.J.?"

"What is this?" C.J. demanded, not taking the box.

Danny shook it, gently, trying to tease her with it, "It's an anniversary gift."

"We don't _have_ an anniversary."

"Sure we do. I got the idea from Josh; he and Donna celebrate the anniversary of when they started working together, he sends her flowers, she complains that he's got the date wrong, it's cute, I thought I'd give it a try."

"Yeah, well, Josh is an idiot and Donna is a usually intelligent person who does some really stupid things sometimes - usually because of him."

"I don't know if I like how you slanted that statement to support Donna and put all the blame on Josh," Danny remarked, "Some people would consider that to be very sexist."

"Fine," C.J. put out her hands, "Give me the box."

"I don't think I want to now," Danny countered.

"Give me the box," C.J. repeated.

'Not until you rephrase that statement," he retorted.

"Give me the damn box or not, Danny Concannon, but either way, get the _hell _out of my office!" C.J. stormed.

"I'm sensing a lot of hostility from you today, C.J.," Danny observed, only for C.J. to finally just reach out and snatch the box out of his hands as she went past him into her office, "Maybe you should get a massage - I just the other day picked up a book on 'how to give a massage for beginners'. How about tonight after Chinese food?"

C.J. replied by kicking the door shut behind her, leaving Danny standing outside her office.

"Okay," he commented, "Well, I'll take that as you'll think about it."

Inside her office, C.J. quietly unwrapped the box and opened it, then found herself trying not to laugh at Danny's idea of an 'anniversary gift'. Shaking her head in amusement as she walked to her desk, she dropped the box and the wrapping paper in the trash can and sat the Goldfish-shaped plastic container on her desk next to Gail's tank.


	9. Lipstick On Your Collar

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 10 August.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Rated 'T' for Strong Language.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Lipstick on Your Collar"

By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>"You son of a bitch!"<p>

He wasn't prepared for the strong right hook that came out of nowhere and slammed right into the left side of his jaw.

"Ow," he muttered as he rubbed his mouth, "What was that for?"

"You kissed her, didn't you, you two-timing piece of slime!"

"Who?"

She punched him again, this time a straight jab to the nose.

"Ow! Would you stop that?"

"No," she answered sharply just before throwing another punch; this time, he managed to raise him arm so he ended up taking it somewhere other than his face.

"Look, I don't even know what you're talking about, much less who you're supposed to be talking about, so instead of hitting me would you mind just telling me what the hell's going on?" He demanded.

"This!" She snarled at him as she grabbed his shirt by the collar and pulled it towards her.

"He-hey, I'm _wearing _that!" He stammered.

"This is what the hell's going on!" She continued, twisting the shirt up so that he could see the deep red stain on his collar, a stain in the shape of a pair of lips.

His attention went quite naturally from the red lipstick stain to the baby pink lipstick on her own pert lips.

"That's right, jerk, I'm not _wearing_ red lipstick!"

She was ready for angry denials, unprepared stammering and stuttering as he attempted to come up with an excuse for what she saw... She was not ready for him to begin laughing, leaving her staring at him in disbelief.

"You did Thursday," He reminded her when he had finally regained enough control of himself, "This is a dirty shirt..."

She thought back to Thursday and released the grip she had on his shirt, blushing as she remembered what they had done... and the fact that she had, in fact, wore red lipstick to match the color of her dress that night.

"Oh," she said in embarrassment, "Um... I'm sorry I hit you?"


	10. Checking In

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 8 September.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Timeframe: Season two, I guess? Before the whole MS hearings happened, but after Ainsley arrives on the scene.  
>Pairings: JoshDonna

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Checking In"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, we only have two rooms available; one single occupancy and the other's double," the check-in clerk informed them, "There's a lot of people in town to see the President's speech at the college tomorrow night."<p>

"Yeah," Josh Lyman - Deputy Chief-of-Staff to the aforementioned President - looked at his companions and rolled his eyes, "Trust me, we're well-aware of the President's visit."

"You'll have to excuse him," the blonde woman shook her head, "He has a sensitive stomach and he's not good with car rides when he can't eat for long periods of time."

"Donna..." Josh moaned, "You don't have to tell her that!"

The clerk smiled reassuringly, "That's alright, sir, I've heard far worse before. The hotel resturant doesn't open until four, but there is a diner around the corner and two blocks east that I can recommend; the only problem some people have is that they specialise in charbroiled hamburgers, so the food is typically on the done/well-done side unless you ask them not to."

Josh perked up at that, "'Done/well-done side', does that mean burnt?"

Donna Moss sighed, "Josh, eating charcoal is not good for you."

"It's charbroiled, not charcoal," the third member of their party spoke up, "I'm just saying that by definition, there is a difference, Donna."

Donna rolled her eyes, "It's still not good for him, Sam."

"You know what, Donna?" Josh retorted, "Sometimes, you do things that aren't good for you, you've got to do them because you love them. And with that, if anyone needs me, I'll be around the corner and two blocks to the east of here."

"Sam, we'll be at the diner," Donna corrected Josh.

Josh raised an eyebrow, "We?"

"Yes, Joshua, 'we'," Donna answered, "Someone has to make sure that if you're not going to eat a salad instead of a burnt hamburger, you'll at least leave the lettuce and tomato on the bun with the rest of it."

"Well, enjoy yourselves," Sam quickly reached past the two of them and snatched the key to the single-occupant room before Donna could take it herself.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, you two," the Deputy Communications Director added as he turned on his heel and briskly walked towards the elevator.

Donna frowned at Sam's retreating form and leaned in close to ask Josh a question, "What _wouldn't_ he do?"

"Considering his track record," Josh answered, "I'm not sure. In the last two years he's gone out with a call girl, Leo's daughter and a Republican, that doesn't say much for what he wouldn't do."

"I've dated Republicans, Josh."

"I'd like to think you've learned your lesson with that, Donna," he countered, "But don't worry, I still forgive you."

"_You _forgive _me_?" Donna's voice went up in disbelief.

"For gomers like Freeride, yes, I forgive you," Josh told her and put his arm around her shoulders, "And you know why? Because you're my best friend."

"I thought Sam was your best friend."

"He's my best guy friend, you're my best girl friend, I can have two best friends."

"That's sweet, Josh, but you still have to order a salad," Donna informed him.

"...Can I at least get some french fries?"

"As long as they aren't drowned in salt," Donna paused a moment, then added, "Did you know that 'French' has nothing to do with 'french fries' coming from France - which they don't - but actually refers to the way the potatos are cut before they're fried?"

"No, because I try not to overanalyse my food, Donna - I'm going to eat it, not try to get it passed by Congress."

The clerk coughed nervously, quite honestly the conversation between the two guests was getting more personal than she was comfortable with them having in the hotel's lobby, and pushed a small envelope with a plastic card in it closer to the edge on their side of the counter, "Your room key?"


	11. It Means 'No'

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 9 September.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Timeframe: Season One, what if Josh had put his foot down against hiring Mandy?

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"It Means 'No'."  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'no'."

"What is the meaning of this negatory?"

"It means 'no'." - Ninth Doctor and a Dalek, "Doctor Who".

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>"No," the younger man in the room said with an uncharacteristic firmness, contrary to his usual easy-going nature; the 'Bulldog' was loosed.<p>

The older man sighed, "Josh..."

"Leo, I said no," Josh Lyman stood up and paced for a moment, "I don't think we should hire her, I won't go talk to her, and if you do hire her I'm going to make it clear it was over my objections to the idea."

Leo McGarry - Chief of Staff to the President of the United States and Josh's immediate superior at the White House - shook his head, "Josh, don't be like this, it's a simple concept; the administration needs a better look to the media and that's Mandy's specialty. Talk to her, offer her the job."

"No, Leo," Josh repeated firmly, "If you want to offer her the job, you go talk to her, but when it backfires... don't think I didn't warn you, Leo."

"You're letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement on the matter," Leo chided.

"My judgement is perfectly clear," Josh countered, "Yes, I'm basing my decision on personal feelings and do you know why, Leo? Because I personally know what Mandy's like when she starts thinking she has any kind of authority or power over something. Go ahead and hire her if you want, Leo, but I'm not helping you do it and don't expect me to stick around when she starts pushing her own agenda on the West Wing by claiming things will look good or bad to the press. I know her, Leo... and if that's the direction you think this administration should take, then I don't want to be a part of it."


	12. The French Connection

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 10 September.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Timeframe: While Zoey's been kidnapped.  
>Pairings: implied CharlieZoey

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"The French Connection"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

"I'm on your side in this, but just barely, just by a little, because he's French and royal. These are strange cirumstances in which we're allies, you and I." - Josiah Bartlet, not as President of the United States but as Zoey's father, speaking to Charlie Young, "The West Wing".

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>Charlie Young was a nice guy; over the past few years he'd turned being polite and respectful into an art form, one he practiced on a near-daily basis with Congressmen and Cabinet Secretaries, Ambassadors both foreign and domestic and anyone else that had to speak to the President of the United States. The <em>real <em>President, Jed Bartlet, not the Speaker of the House who was currently the Acting President and acting like he was the elected choice of the American people. Some people had made the mistake of assuming that because Charlie was soft-spoken and quiet - especially compared to some of the people he was around much of the time - he was an easy man to push aside. They usually ended up learning the hard way that you don't last long in politics, even if it's just as the President's bodyman, if you can't stand your ground, and when your job involves telling angry Ambassadors to wait until the President is ready and that will be when he's ready and not a moment before or reminding the leader of the 'Free World' to take his medications whether he likes it or not, you learn fast how to stand your ground...

And how to force someone else to back down, and part of that - part he'd learned from Mrs. Landingham before her death, especially - was to always be ready to back up anything you say, whether it was with numbers, words or actions.

While most of the West Wing had connections in political circles or in the private sector, no one stopped to consider what kind of connections Charlie might have and some wouldn't have thought much of them even if they knew. That would be a dangerous underestimation; after all, one had to pass through the District of Columbia metropolitan area to leave the White House and Capitol Building, and even though his mother was no longer alive, had been killed in the line of duty, Charlie was still the son of one of the D.C. Metro Police's own.

Charlie waited until the Metro officer had escorted Jean-Paul - complaining about being stopped by the police for no reason - around to the back of his car and had him put his hands on the trunk before he got out of the patrol car and walked up to join them, announcing his presence by grabbing one of the Frenchman's arms and twisting it behind his back while slamming his face into the trunk of the car.

"I told you that you wouldn't like it if anything happened to Zoey," Charlie reminded him harshly.


	13. The Wedding Dance

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 12 September. Sorry, but my Star Trek Online isn't working for some reason and it seems to have taken my muse with it on this little unplanned vacation...

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Pairings: Josh/Donna... and Josh/Donna.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"The Wedding Dance"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

President of the United States Matthew Santos looked proudly at his Chief-of-Staff as the music chosen for the traditional first dance between bride and groom began to play and Josh Lyman took his new wife in his arms and they began to move together.

"They make a nice couple, don't they?" former-President Jed Bartlett remarked with a smile as he watched the man he considered to be like a son flounder for a moment before his wife sighed and began leading the dance herself.

"I still remember all the talk on the Hill when Josh started to act almost tolerable," Santos remarked, "Some of the Congressmen wondered if it was a result of being shot... then we found out it was more a result of his doctor..."

"Stealing Josh's heart was probably easy after all the work she did to put it back together after the shooting," Bartlett agreed, then added carefully, "Did you know that Donna almost left college at one point?"

"I'm glad she didn't," Santos answered, "I'm not sure anyone else could have kept Josh from dying after Rosslyn, and Washington wouldn't be the same without him... For one thing, the President would be either Bob Russell or Arnie Vinnick now if Josh hadn't been around to convince me to run."

"I feel sorry for him in one respect, though," Bartlett observed.

"Oh?"

"Think of how long I've been married to Abbey, Mister President," Bartlett grinned, "Josh doesn't realise just how hard it can be being married to a doctor... and I think Abbey gave Donna some of her secrets."

The two Presidents managed not to laugh, but instead let the smiles on their faces just become another part of the wedding day.

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

In another world, the Chief-of-Staff to the First Lady stirred and sat up in bed, slowly shaking her head to regain a sense of her surroundings, causing her fiance to roll over onto his back and look up at her.

"Something wrong?"

"I was dreaming, Josh."

"Oh... what were you dreaming about?"

"About us... do you think we would have ended up together even if things had been different."

"I'm sure of it, Donna," Josh admitted, "You're too much a part of my life to think I can live without you."


	14. To Live

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 17 September. Star Trek Online managed to start working again today; yay for me.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Pairings: Josh/Donna  
>Timeframe: uncertain, some time after Rosslyn, AU.<p>

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"To Live"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>He dropped his bag on the floor next to the bed and then threw himself onto the mattress; it had been a long week.<p>

"Get your feet off the bed as long as your shoes are still on," the woman on the other side of the bed ordered.

"Yes, _ma'am_," he chuckled as he sat up and turned so that his legs were off the bed while he took his shoes off.

"How did it go?" she asked, rolling over in the bed, onto her side, to look at him.

"It went, let's put it that way," he sighed as he pulled off one shoe and looked at it for a moment before tossing it across the room.

"Joshua," she sighed, "How did it go?"

"Well, let's see, I've been called a coward, a quitter, and told that I'm just using having my chest shot open as an excuse by people that I used to think I respected," Josh answered with a groan, leaning back so that the top his head was laying against her stomach as he looked his fiance in the eyes, "How do you think it went?"

Donna rubbed her hand along his upper arm, "Don't they understand how much this is hurting you?"

"How could they? Look at Leo and Toby, Donna," Josh replied, "They put wives and families last to work in Washington until they lost them, they'll probably die here... I don't think they know how anyone could think living is more important than working for the President anymore. They seem to think it's better to die from a heart attack working in the West Wing then to live a longer life somewhere else... I can't... I just can't do that, Donna. Maybe I am a coward because of it, but I want to live..."

Josh reached up with his other hand to take Donna's, "I want to live with you..."


	15. Matters of Age

Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental _multi-fandom_ project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 30 September.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Timeframe: Early to mid-season one.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Matters of Age"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>White House Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborne had always considered himself forward-looking, the kind of person that worked towards tomorrow and tried to advance the country. He had never been one of those people who spent their time looking at the past and thinking about what they did and what they should have done. Then again, he had never screwed something up this badly before, and certainly never compounded the situation by panicked ramblings and assumptions. Why on Earth, he was asking himself, had he thought that Leo's statement about his daughter's fifth grade class automatically meant she was a student? He tried to tell himself that it was an obvious conclusion to reach, anyone else would have thought the same thing. But even if it had been the correct conclusion - which it turned out not to be - he still couldn't figure out why he had thought it was a good idea to tell all about his current predicament to someone who at the time he believed was simply Leo's daughter's teacher. The problem was that when he started thinking about it, he thought about the fact that he and Josh were the same age; Leo had been a friend of Josh's father, so he was effectively old enough to be Josh's father and thus Sam's as well; so Sam couldn't figure out why he had never considered the possibility that Leo's daughter might be the same age as Josh and him.<p> 


	16. Press Conference

Disclaimer: "The West Wing" is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit. "Whose Line Is It Anyway" is the property of Channel 4 Television Corporation and Hat Trick Productions and they probably also own the various games that the show uses as well.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Press Conference"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>The White House Press Secretary paused at the sight of light coming from the Press Room when there should have been no one in there at that time of night. When she went to investigate, C.J. Cregg found herself groaning in anticipation of a headache when she saw that the reason there were lights on in the Press Room was because Josh Lyman, Sam Seaborne, Danny Concannon and - surprisingly - Toby Ziegler were in the room.<p>

"Is the amount of support you're getting more or less than what you expected?" Sam asked Josh, who was standing at the podium, at C.J.'s podium like the Deputy Chief-of-Staff belonged there.

"I've been getting plenty of support," Josh answered, putting his hands on either side of the top of the podium, "I have my own fan-club, you know."

Standing in the doorway, C.J. put her hands on her hips and coughed to get their attention, "What are you guys doing?"

Three heads turned at her words, but Toby just glanced over his shoulder and went back to tapping his pen against a pad of paper that rested on his knee.

"We're playing 'Press Conference," Josh answered cautiously as C.J. walked into the room proper.

"Josh," the Press Secretary gave the Deputy Chief-of-Staff an annoyed look, "the last time you were allowed near a press conference, the President ended up with a secret plan to fight inflation."

"John... Lord Marbury... brought some episodes of a British comedy for us to watch - don't ask why," Toby elaborated, fidgeting with his pen without looking up, "Basically four guys have to do improvisational comedy skits based on ideas from the show's moderator and the audience. One of the skits involves one of them giving a press conference with no idea what it's about and they have to figure out what the press conference is about based on the questions that the other three ask."

"Uh-huh," C.J. nodded slowly, "And you-Toby, and you-Josh, and you-Sam... and you don't surprise me, really, Danny, you all decided to play this 'Press Conference' game yourself and use the Press Room to do it."

"Well, I am the expert on being a reporter during a White House Press Conference," Danny smirked, "We tried to get someone else so we could have the three 'reporters', the moderator and the speaker, but no one else wanted to play... something about it being a 'stupid guy thing' according to Donna."

"And why exactly are you doing this in the Press Room?"

"Because we're bored," Sam answered plainly, "And we thought playing it in here would add a touch of authenticity to the game."

"You're all idiots and I can't believe you're a part of this, Toby," C.J. responded.

"The President 'polished' another speech and I needed to relieve some stress," Toby answered, "It was either this or throw a stress ball at the President's head and the Secret Service has very strong opinions when it comes to the latter."

"Uh-huh," C.J. nodded slowly, "So let me get this straight, the people to blame for you being in the Press Room after hours are the President of the United States and the British Ambassador?"

"When you get right down to it, yeah, I guess you can say that," Danny replied.

"You know what?" C.J. finally said after a moment's thought, "I'm too tired to deal with this right now. I'm going home, I'm going to bed - no, Danny, you're not joining me - and all I have to say is that when I come in here tomorrow to give the morning press briefing, the place better be intact."

Spinning on her heel, C.J. left the room muttering, "Idiots, all of them, idiots..."

"Uh," Josh looked around at Sam's wide-eyed expression, Toby's neutral one and Danny shrugging, "Okay, next question... Danny?"

Danny grinned as he asked, "Is Midnight still a bad time for you?"

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

Author's Note: Josh's 'Press Conference' persona, if anyone's curious, is "The Prince after the media finds out about his relationship with Cinderella".


	17. A Christmas Message

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: Happy Christmas, Merry New Year and lots of pressies to all! I'd like to dedicate this short to my stocking-stuffer bag of Goldfish Colors who fed my inspiration and my stomach during its creation.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"A Christmas Message"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>As soon as she heard the voice on her office answering machine, White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg cringed, knowing that whatever she was about to hear was just going to annoy her if she was lucky, make her angry if she wasn't, and all on a Christmas Day, too.<p>

"C.J. the red-faced Press Secretary, has a bag of baked Goldfish, and if you ever saw her, you would say she's quite a dish, but everytime she sees me, she just yells and calls me names, she never lets poor old me, join in any Press Room games..." Danny Concannon's voice stopped singing over the answering machine and continued in a conversational speaking tone, "If you're hearing this, C.J., I'm pretty sure you're somewhere you're not supposed to be. Josh already told me that the President ordered everyone not to come in on Christmas Day. Being in your office today of all days is a good way to start early getting on next year's Naughty List. I'm bringing Christmas Dinner by your place at five, C.J., and if you're not there then you can bet tomorrow's headline will read 'Reporter carries Press Secretary out of White House over his shoulder like Santa's sack of presents'."

C.J. stared at the answering machine in disbelief for a moment after the playback ended, not sure which part of Danny's message to get angry about first - the song, the threat or the fact that the Deputy Chief-of-Staff was spying on her on Danny's behalf. She started reaching for the phone to make calls to yell at people using language that would likely melt the phone lines, then paused. Since Danny had already decided to invite himself to her place for dinner, she might as well just take the opportunity to yell at him in person. At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she regathered her things to leave the West Wing.


	18. Cereal Killer

Disclaimer: "The West Wing" is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit.

* * *

><p>-o0O0o-<p>

"Cereal Killer"  
>By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'<p>

-o0O0o-

* * *

><p>Party politics pervades the banks of the Patomac, but certain things remain non-partisian - sometimes even dinner, lunch and breakfast. Sometimes, a meal is just a meal, no meeting regarding a House Resolution or Senate Bill involved in the matter. Sometimes, the strongest issue debated over a meal is whether or not ordering extra lettuce and tomato on a hamburger counts as 'having a salad'. This was not one of those times. This was a time when the 'discussion' over the food could be considered by some to be more heated than some arguments on Capitol Hill.<p>

"You really should eat more 'heart-healthy', Josh," Donna Moss chided her friend and boss.

"Donnatella," Josh Lyman responded, pulling his spoon out of the bowl of Hula-Fruits in front of him and using it to point at the blonde on the other side of the table, "'Heart-healthy' is an FDA buzzword used to try and distract people from the fact that most cereals that use it to describe themselves are old people cereals."

Donna merely blinked at him, "Remind me again when you were born, Joshua?"

"_Never_ long enough ago to eat old people cereal, Donna," he answered back firmly.

"I'm not even sure the elderly are old enough to eat 'old people cereal' as Josh puts it," Ainsley Hayes interjected as she joined them at the table, carefully sitting her bowl of ChocoBalls at the place next to Donna, "I think if, for example, I were to want honey in my cereal, I'd prefer Honey-Hives over an 'old people cereal' of granola and nuts with honey. At least then I could actually taste the honey flavor."

Donna sighed, "Really, Ainsley?"

"What?" the other blonde waved her spoon around, "It's the truth, Donna, cereal companies seem to forget that sometimes adults want flavor as much as kids do."

"Finally," Josh threw up his hands in thanks to the Lord of Hosts, "_Somebody_ around here understands!"

"You realize that this means you're agreeing with a Republican, right?" Ainsley took the liberty of pointing out to him.

"Yeah, but you're not a 'real' Republican," Josh countered, "I mean, you work in a Democratic White House."

"I have a gun, and I have a Bible, and I voted for the other guy, I'm a 'real' Republican... I'm like the person in the Roman triumphs, the one who rides on the chariot reminding the person being celebrated that they're still human," Ainsley countered.

"What's this about Rome?" Another voice asked as Sam Seaborne joined them, "Is there a problem with Italy for which I need to start drafting responses?"

"You know, Sam, most people would say 'that I need to start drafting responses for'," Josh muttered.

"That would be grammarically incorrect," Sam pointed out.

"They're both going to eat themselves into heart attacks," Donna said, answering Sam's opening question.

"Rome and Italy are going to eat themselves into heart attacks?" Sam asked, confused.

"Josh and Ainsley are going to eat themselves into heart attacks," Donna corrected.

"Oh, okay, that makes more sense since, well, Rome and Italy are a city and a country and they don't eat and any 'heart' would be metaphoric."

"And she," Josh again pointed at Donna with his spoon, "thinks I should eat milk-soaked cardboard because it's 'healthier for my heart'."

"I don't think cardboard would be healthy at all."

"It's not cardboard, Sam," Donna sighed in frustration - how someone who was supposed to be a speechwriter and Deputy Communications Director for the White House could be so oblivious at times was one of those 'questions of the age', "I'm saying that he needs to eat heart-healthy foods instead of sugary cereals and he's calling them cardboard."

"And I think he's being generous with that comparison, Sam," Ainsley chimed in.

Sam shook his head, prior experience had taught him that he had trouble winning debates when Ainsley Hayes was on the opposing side, so there was really only one response that was left to him, "Josh... just eat the cereal she tells you to eat. We all know you'll wash it down with a soda later anyway."


End file.
